


The Three Dynamic

by 221brosiewilde



Series: Three's a Crowd [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic, Drama, F/M, Loss, M/M, Multi, OT3, Romance, Season 2 spoilers, Smut, Threesome, ansgt, mormor, mormormolly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221brosiewilde/pseuds/221brosiewilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly, Sebastian, and Jim live together sometimes. Sometimes they have sex. Sometimes Jim dies. Sometimes Molly helps Sherlock Holmes fake his own death. Sebastian is always left in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Three Dynamic

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is my first time writing these three characters together, and it's rather angsty and porny, but I think it's turned out rather well. Hopefully you do too. Note that this is just the first part in a series that I'm starting and it is very un-beta'd do any mistakes are all my own. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

There is absolutely nothing that’s right with the world.

Jim is dead, and Sherlock is walking because she helped him. She traded sides, and Sebastian is sitting next to her in the cab, trying to be the silent strong one as usual. But even she can’t ignore the tears streaming down his face.

It’s interesting, and utterly heartbreaking. 

She’s never seen someone become completely unmade before. She didn’t know that people could unravel. But here Sebastian was right now, his threads were being caught and pulled in front of her eyes, and it was like he was becoming smaller and smaller the longer they stayed in this cab. 

Jim had been the thing keeping him together. Jim had told her so himself. Sebastian had been nothing more than a pitbull continuously caught in the ring, half conscious most of the time, and the other half had been swimming in alcohol. But Jim had put him back together, sewn him up, gotten him away from the chaos of the ring, and thrown him into the violent orderliness that was Moriarty. 

But that was over now. 

Now they were leaving a funeral for a person who technically didn’t exist as far as the press was concerned. The grave stone didn’t even have Jim’s real name on it. Just Richard Brook, and two made up years with a dash between them. 

She’d done the autopsy, and identified the body. She’d dated Jim from IT long enough for that to be a plausible explanation, but she didn’t think Mycroft Holmes bought it. Not really. But she didn’t really care whether or not he could tell she lived with Jim and his sniper and had sex with both of them. It was all over now. 

And really, she’d been stupid to think that it could have lasted. Her and Sebastian had been nothing except toys for Jim to play with. She’d known that from the beginning. She was quiet, and yes, mousy, but she wasn’t stupid. There was nothing one dimensional about her, and maybe that was why Jim kept her around for as long as he did. 

The cab stops at their flat, and she gets out. She knew better than to ask Sebastian if he was okay. She wasn’t in the mood to be lashed out at right now. Though she doubted he would, she knew he didn’t like to be seen as weak. Even though he was a rough person, and the scars and hard eyes often threw people off, Sebastian had always been good to her. Even when Jim was rough, and sadistic, Sebastian was healing, and always knew when to back off. They’d had the perfect dynamic. 

She opens the door to the flat, and steps inside. Everything feels empty. One of Jim’s ties is thrown over the back of the couch, and she almost expects him to come out of the bedroom, buttoning his suit jacket, rambling about some new client who obviously doesn’t know who he’s dealing with if he thinks he can leave the country unscathed. She almost smiles, but shakes her head. There wasn’t any point in living in fantasy. Not anymore.

Sebastian’s hand slips onto her waist easily as he passes her, and Molly almost jumps, a soft sound of surprise escaping her. He was always so quiet. She almost expects him to turn and smile at her, like he usually would every time he accidentally scared her, but he doesn’t. 

He continues into the kitchen, and opens the door to the balcony, lighting a cigarette on his way. 

She goes to him.

Her arms wrap around his waist easily enough, and she presses the side of her face into his back. There’s a tense moment where she thinks he might nudge her off, but his shoulders lose their stiffness after a few silent counts of ten. He sighs, and she knows that he’s wishing she were Jim. 

She’d walked in on them once, just like this, and it had felt more personal than if she’d walked in on them having sex. Sebastian had relaxed into Jim, eyes closed, the smoke curling out of his mouth as he exhaled lazily. Jim for once hadn’t looked like he was ready to blow up the whole street. It had been comforting to watch them. Her boys. 

But it had only lasted a minute before Jim had caught sight of her, and the old Cheshire cat smile had curled over his lips. 

She wished she could be that for Sebastian right now. 

But her body was too soft, not like the prickly lines of Jim’s body, and Sebastian was already finished his cigarette and turning around. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs, and Sebastian shrugs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before heading inside again. 

“You tried.”

_______________________________

“I miss this,” Molly says quietly, curling a bit more solidly into Sebastian’s side. It’s nearly three months after Jim’s death, and things are starting to be okay again. 

Sebastian is still unraveled, but she thinks that maybe he’s starting to remember how to put himself back together without Jim. He texts her after work to ask how her day was, lets her touch him without tensing, makes her coffee in the morning if she stays over. Not that she stays over very often but still. She supposes that it’s the little things that really count. 

She’s nestled against him on the couch as they pretend to watch some crime drama on the television. It brings back harsh memories of Jim. Even after three months she still expects him to come out of the office, looking like he hasn’t seen sunlight in days. He’d cluck disapprovingly at them, hands on his hips, and worm his way between the two of them until he was comfortable. That’s how they always sat. Molly would be on her side, her head on Jim’s thigh. Jim would be pressed against Sebastian, one arm wrapped around his middle, head resting on the sniper’s broad chest. And Sebastian would have his arm around Jim’s shoulders. It was comfortable. And Molly liked to think that it said something about their relationship, unorthodox as it was. 

Jim was always in between the two of them. Even in death. And she was just the add on. 

Not that she doubted that Sebastian liked having her around. He’d been a bit sour about it in the beginning, but Jim had taken care of that, and everything had been fine since then. They moved around each other harmoniously, each one working and living their own lives until they came home, and they became a well oiled machine, moving around each other seamlessly. There was even a time when Molly only went home to feed the cat, until she’d put her foot down, and told Jim she needed to be alone once in a while. As much as she loved being with them, she needed some semblance of normalcy in her life. 

And strangely enough, living with two other men was not the kind of normal she needed once in a while. 

But it was still nice. She’d never pictured living this way before. She’d always thought she’d find some nice boy in college, maybe someone else in the medical profession, and settle down with him. Have a few kids. Continue working in the morgue. It’d be fun. 

Never had she thought she’d be living in two flats (her own, and Jim and Sebastian’s), having a relationship (if that’s even what you could call it) with London’s Most Dangerous Criminal and his right hand man. She’d never dreamed that she’d be helping their arch enemy fake his own death either but…here she was.

And now she was sitting with a broken man on a couch watching crap telly and pretending that everything was fine when it really, really wasn’t. They’d lost a big half of their whole. Possibly the most important half. And neither of them knew what to do with themselves anymore. 

Where did toys go when their owner left? It’s not like they could play with each other.

Except she really, really wanted to. 

But she could tell it was a touchy subject without even bringing it up. Sebastian was good to her, but there was something about him that was untouchable that still frightened her. It had usually taken Jim to bridge that gap between them, but he’d made it easy. Everything had been easier when Jim was the one pulling the strings. Now that it was just the two of them things weren’t as effortless. But they were trying, and that mattered. That was something. It was why Sebastian texted her everyday when she was finished work, and it was why she came by at least once a week with groceries. They couldn’t go without each other, but at the same time being together without Jim hurt. It was the worst kind of catch 22. 

But Sebastian still woke her up with kisses when she slept over, and he still smirked a bit when he caught her looking at him. She just couldn’t figure out if it was out of habit, or if it was genuine. 

She can feel, rather than see Sebastian nod, and grunt softly in reply. The pain still comes off of him in waves, and when she looks at him just right, she can see it like a tangible presence. He misses Jim. It’s clear in the tension in his shoulders when she moves closer to him, and she doesn’t know how to breach it short of asking. 

“I miss it too,” Sebastian says after a moment, like he really needed to, and Molly shifts so she doesn’t have to look up at him. It’s something she’s seen Jim do hundreds of times, and she can tell that Sebastian recognizes it, even briefly, by the way he sits up a little straighter. 

“Miss what?” she asks, and Sebastian just shrugs. 

“Everything,” he says, voice rough from not speaking this much in a while. Molly makes sure to listen since Sebastian rarely speaks, and certainly not this much. He shrugs. “Jim. Just…I dunno. The way we used to be. It was nice.”

“Is that all you miss?”

“No.” It’s said plainly and honestly, and Molly tries not to look surprised, but she can feel the blood tinting her cheeks. “I miss the sex too. I’m only human, you know.”

It shouldn’t take her off guard the way it does. She should have guessed if the amount of times she’d walked in on Jim and Sebastian was anything to go by. But back then it had been fun seeing Jim all flustered and red faced and incoherent (depending on where Sebastian’s mouth or cock was at the time). He could barely grind out a, “Sorry, Molls. Sebastian got a bit impatient waiting for you” and she’d always had a suspicion that Sebastian did it on purpose. Because the sniper had always liked sex. He’d always been the quickest to pick up on an innuendo, or been the first one undressed, and hard and aching for it. So she doesn’t know why she’s so surprised when Sebastian smirks a bit, and then they’re kissing, and it’s slow, and her teeth scrape against his lip awkwardly at first, but it’s good, and it’s comforting in a way that takes her back beyond three months ago. 

Sebastian still tastes like cigarettes, and cheap alcohol, with the slightest hint of mint from his toothpaste, and his hands are still callused and strong as they slide down her sides, raising goosebumps under her clothes. It’s familiar, and she almost thinks she can see Jim out of the corner of her eye, watching them from the other chair, or the other side of the couch, or from his place against the kitchen counter. She misses him so much it almost leaves her breathless, gasping, and Sebastian only takes it as a green light.

He bites at her bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from her, and she can feel the hurt on him come in waves again. It’s painful, and she pulls away to tell him that they can stop if he wants to, but he only leans in closer, pressing her back against the couch fiercely. She arches against him, and smooths her palm down his back, and under his shirt, mapping out the scars strewn against his skin like violent constellations. His kisses come fast and hard, and soon he’s moving down to her neck, grazing his teeth against her pulse point, causing a small gasp to escape her. Her nails dig into his back, and he slides a hand under her shirt, cupping one of her breasts. She sits up, putting a halt to things for a second as she reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra. Her hands shake, making it harder, and she huffs impatiently.

“Shit,” she murmurs, and Sebastian’s hands are on her wrists.

“Just relax,” he says, rolling his eyes at her. And it’s so familiar and achingly Sebastian that she does relax, and can’t even find it in herself to snipe back at him. He pulls her hands up and away, lifting her shirt off before reaching behind her to unclasp her bra with one hand and toss it on the floor to join her shirt. 

“Show off,” she grumbles, and he can’t hide the smirk on his face as he kisses her again. She can feel the hurt lessen in him a bit, and she silently wishes that it never comes back as she rolls her hips up against him. The groan that it draws out of him is low and delicious, and she wants to keep it bottled up somewhere for her to hear anytime she wants. He rocks his hips back, and she closes her eyes in pleasure when she feels him, hard and hot, against her thigh. Three months was too long to wait for this. It was too good. And she knew that if he kept up like this, hips moving against her insistently, his lips on her breast, and oh god…his hand between her thighs, that this wouldn’t last long at all. He already had her writhing under his touch, and that didn’t seem fair. 

She bites her lip to stifle a moan when he flicks his tongue over her nipple, pushing his fingers inside of her slowly, and she reaches down, undoing the fly on his jeans. She wraps her hand around his length, stroking him slowly. Even now he feels big in her hand, and she remembers the first time they did this, and how wide Jim’s smirk had been when Sebastian had been inside of her for the first time. He’d kissed her, and bitten her lips red, hissing that if he could take it then she could too. 

Sebastian gasps out a curse, and looks at her, his eyes dark, hungry, looking for all the world like he’d love nothing more than to take her right now. 

Molly licks her lips, nodding once, and he pulls her pants out of the way roughly, guiding himself into her with a drawn out moan. It’s hot and tight, and it almost hurts, but the burn is welcome. It’s good to feel something after so many months of being numb. 

“Fuck, Moll,” Seb curses, eyes closed as he stills for a moment, his breathing ragged as he strains for control. Molly smirks, a spark of the defiance Jim loved so much coming through, and arches her hips up, urging him on. ”God, you’re going to kill me,” Sebastian breathes, and snaps his hips into her hard, wrenching out a cry from her. 

It’s hard and fast, and there’s no love between them, but there never has been. They’d always been whatever Jim wanted them to be, however Jim wanted them to be, but now that it was just the two of them, it was raw, and hard, and purely Molly and Sebastian with no one else behind it. It was what Molly had been craving since day one, and it was perfect like this. 

She can feel Sebastian start to get close in the way his thrusts become erratic, and she squeezes herself around him, moaning along with him when it only heightens everything. She digs her nails into his shoulders, meeting the movement of his hips with her own, kissing him fiercely. 

“Seb…I-I’m gonna…”

“I know.”

She comes before the words are even out of his mouth, gasping hard, clutching him close to her. Sebastian tenses above her, and groans, and there’s a spurt of wetness between her legs suddenly as he shakes before collapsing on top of her. Molly lets out a soft grunt at the feeling of all of Sebastian’s weight on top of her, and he chuckles.

“Sorry,” he says, rolling to the side, and pulling her against him. She smiles, content, and nuzzles her face against his chest, breathing him in. For a moment, she wishes that Jim was here, and she swears she can hear the door open, and that familiar step walk into the room. 

She glances behind herself briefly, sighing when the door remains closed, and Sebastian presses a kiss to her forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s not here,” he says quietly, something hard and a little cold in his voice, like a realization. “He’s not coming back.”

Molly nods, and closes her eyes, leaning into Sebastian’s warmth. She’d have to get birth control in the morning, and go home to feed the cat, and maybe she’d make breakfast for Sebastian and herself before heading off to work. But for now, she’d sleep.


End file.
